


Defamatory Desiderata

by Silverwinds



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Drowning, Exsanguination, Head Injury, Humiliation, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possession, Revenge, Torture, Zed dominating Shen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-07-27 16:19:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7625422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverwinds/pseuds/Silverwinds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The corruption from Zed's cherished forbidden box has spread to his mind, driving him to pursue his darkest desires, even the ones he refuses to admit he has. The box believes it has given him a gift and that now Zed must do something for it in return...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please be sure to read the tags for trigger warnings.

A wide-brimmed plateau nestled in the valley between two low topped mountains sat bald beneath the great eye of the moon. Warm, wet air from the bordering ocean would draft through the passes like breath between the gaps of the jagged stone teeth of a sleeping giant. The breeze was heavy and humid, but buzzing and alive with the growth of an approaching thunderhead. Broad green leaves flipped to expose their white bellies in preparation, rodents and birds nestled beneath their protective arms, and game animals claimed their space within the thickets. Alone and exposed on the open hilltop sat a man, bathed in the judgmental lunar glow.

His eyes were glazed, half open and distant. His breathing slow, evenly matched with the breath of the valley. With a stiff posture, he stared blankly forward, gazed directed what would be the horizon, if not for the looming presence of the valley’s eternal guardians. Back straight, legs crossed, and one hand cradling the other, he had remained motionless for hours. Every so often the dim golden essence produced from his eyes would brighten and shed their light onto his arms and legs, casting an odd shadow beneath him. The effervescence was bright and warm, shining out from beneath his lids like the light of a fireplace from inside a home. But soon, much too soon, it would flicker out and his eyes would dim once more. After these moments he would drop his pose, his spine would lose its rigidity and his hands run over his face stressfully. He may perhaps take a few deep breaths or stretch out his stiffened muscles, but he would always return to his place and resume his meditative task dutifully.

This was his ninth night attempting this practice, attempting to connect with the stars, and Shen felt his resolve being tested. The celestials had never felt more truly like stars than they did at this moment. The distance between them had never been so large. Everytime he came to the point in meditations where he thought he should be able to reach them, it felt only like he was shouting into a void. He could feel their presence, hear their humming song, see their burning light, but when he reached out they only faded. The communion escaping him like trying to grasp water.

In the past when he had connected with them, the moment his thoughts breached into their realm, it was like something had grabbed hold of him and pulled his mind away from his body. He no longer had form and was instead a single spot of life, one speck among hundreds of thousands of others. The distant melodic chimes that the stars usually spoke in suddenly became a chorus. Voices from the dark sang to him, always in tune, their words always synchronized, as if they all came from one mind. He had no eyes to see, but he knew all around him were motes of light suspended in darkness and that he was one among them, though nowhere near their brilliance. He could never be sure if he was speaking their language or them his, only that he understood them while he was there. When at last he returned to his body it felt like the world was inverted - light where dark should be, night when it should always be day, and his limbs were suddenly too solid, too real. He could never remember the words he’d heard, everything he’d learned in that place was transmuted into the same tones he would hear from the night sky, but the message they sent would remain.

Lately, however, he could barely reach that dark place and when he did there was no force to pluck him and place him amongst the stars. When he pulled back from his meditation he could hear the humming starlight above him, he could hear them watching, waiting for him to reach out to them.

Tonight he had nearly reached them several times. He needed to maintain perfect balance in order to connect with the stars, so he could pass through the veil and hear their intent, and he was so close, he knew it. Shen was a patient man, but he’d been struggling for more than a week on something that hadn’t usually taken him more than a few days at most and it was taking a toll on his nerves.

The approaching storm was ignored, the hissing of the trees building into a dull roar as they fought against the wind, Shen sat still as a rock. Lightning flashed beyond the mountain tops bleaching the world white for an instant, as darkness reclaimed its place, two pricks of light found themselves remaining. Crimson orbs held a steady gaze on their target, taking in the surroundings, counting the steps between them.

Shen himself was quite unaware of the danger. His breath hitched as his mind finally found purchase within the obsidian temple his masters resided in. The star’s light projected outward from him, consuming the clearing with its pale radiance.

The red eyes shielded themselves against the sudden strike of brightness, but once they adjusted regained their fixture on Shen. Curiously, the man peeled himself out of the shadows, the darkness attempting to cling to him, a thin strand of it connecting him to the woods til it snapped loose. Humming absently, Zed stood no more than two steps before his rival, a small frown touching his lips. Zed paced around Shen in a circle, the luminescence casting a huge ghastly shadow on the treetops like a moth’s shadow as it bounced against a lantern.

Zed crouched beside the incapacitated warrior. The man was unmasked, unarmed, and without his armor. He was, in all senses of the word, defenceless. A striking opposite to Zed’s own appearance who had arrived in his full armor and weapons set. There was a strong shock of power that rushed through him, a fleeting high that he would have savored every moment of.

The heated hatred in his eyes was dulled, masked by an intelligence that did not belong to him. Eyes once as pure red as forging steel was now polluted with grey, akin to hot volcanic ash. Something dark and hidden, even from himself, had been dug up and forced to the forefront of his mind. If not for the control washed over him, he’d have reeled away and rejected the very notion that he hosted the thoughts.

He didn’t stop himself when he found his hand wandering towards Shen’s hair. He carded his fingers through the inky mess before grabbing it roughly, yanking some strands out by the root.It would have been so easy just to end him right then and there - a twist of his wrist to unsheath his blade, a split second to thrust it downward into his jugular and pop it like a pierced water bladder, a few seconds more as the crimson life drained away into the parched earth. It would be as easy as swatting a gnat

The temptation was strong, but the malignant force had other plans for Shen’s life.

“Wake up,” Zed growled. This certainly wouldn’t be any fun if Shen slept through it all.

The man’s spine shot ramrod straight and a shiver climbed its way to the hand Zed still held fisted in Shen’s hair. Shen’s reaction was all he needed to see before Zed knew that yes, he really did want this.

He did not blink, the heavenly light still pouring from them sightlessly.

“Zed?” He asked dumbly. The ninja watched Shen’s muscles coil, but made no move to distance himself. What did he have to fear really?

Zed didn’t dignify him with a response.

“Don’t,” Shen asserted.

“Don’t what?” Zed asked mockingly as he craned Shen’s head back, exposing his naked throat. He could see his rival’s pulse beating, faster now than it had before.

Overhead, the storm continued its advance. A flash of light in the distance sent the earth trembling a moment later. The sky in the gaps of the mountain passes grew hazy with the falling rain, it wouldn’t be much longer before the gray sheet fell over them as well.

Shen took a slow breath in, eyes darting back and forth. Zed was amused to see the cogs turning in the man’s mind. What could he possibly be thinking? He’d put himself in his most vulnerable possible position, completely unprotected, and now the man sworn to kill him held him by the throat. What could Shen possibly say or do to protect himself?

“I can’t…” his voice strained, “Let me…”

Zed knew exactly what Shen was asking, and he barked out a harsh laugh.

“Why should I?” There was a lopsided grin on his face, he knew. It was honestly hilarious that Shen would think he came looking for a fair fight.

The endangered warrior seemed to realise this. He pulled away clumsily and Zed let him, watching bemusedly as Shen struggled to his feet. He stood limply, his feet placed too far apart, and his head hanging low, like a puppet that was being poorly controlled. Even so, it pleased Zed to see that Shen still made for a rather intimidating figure. Despite having so little control over his own body, Shen’s muscular frame was somewhat imposing. The man was built to deliver slow and powerful strikes, each one intended to cleave open his foe. Zed, by comparison, made up in stealth and speed for what he lacked in brute force.

On another day, it would have been thrilling to see how well Shen would fair against him. But today he came seeking different kind of thrill.

The seething whisper of rain encroached, strengthening to a wardrum as it pelted the trees closest to them. A ram’s head of wind butted into them, sending Shen’s hair and gi flipping around in pandamonium. Thunder screamed and the world strobed.

Adrenaline spiked through the shadowed ninja as he caught sight of his query dodging behind a tree at the edge of the clearing. Zed smirked and rolled his shoulders, stalking after him. As he went, black dust shimmered around him, adopting a form strikingly similar to his own before darting off into the forest.

Shen wouldn’t be hard to find, he surmised.

\----------------  
Twisted, gnarled hands pulled at the warrior, scratching and slowing his advance. Roots cropped up, grabbing his feet and making him stumble. Thankfully the storm disguised the majority of his percussion. Though he didn’t yet have his eyes, Shen had trekked this plateau often enough to know its secrets and that he would come upon the edge of the cliff soon.

Despite knowing the danger he risked in coming upon the edge unexpectedly, he pressed onward. He needed only put some distance between him and his pursuer, if he could do that he could summon back the rest of his soul from the stars. At the moment he was only able to complete the most basic actions and thoughts, but he did know that along the cliffside near here was a crevasse he could seek refuge in.

He didn’t know why Zed had shown today of all days. Why he was pursuing him, nor why he hadn’t killed him already if that were his goal, and honestly, Shen couldn’t spare the time to think about it. It was an immense struggle controlling his body at the moment, like shouting the commands across a great distance, they were often misheard and the response pitifully sluggish.

It didn’t take long before he was slowing down. He was very near the edge, he was certain. The sounds of rain washing over the leaves didn’t sound immediately in front of him, it sounded far away… and beneath him. Yes, certainly the edge.

Shen clung to a tree for a moment, scrabbling at his mind trying to remember if the gully was east or west of his position, but the memory was hazy like a water damaged book. He gave up his efforts and decided to go west. He braced himself against every tree he found, having a distinct lack of trust in his footing. Not long after - a minute, perhaps - he heard a rush of water spilling off the cliff. Relief hit him, the waterfall wasn’t far off from the crevasse.

As he pulled himself along toward the next tree, he stepped through an icy cloud of air. He knew that sensation - it was like plunging into a frozen lake, consuming and unforgettable. He reigned in the spike of fear, quelled the rampant frustration, and swallowed his dread as well as he could.

This game, this chase was over. It had never really begun, and he’d known it.

“Fine!” He shouted. If Zed wanted a fight, he’d give it to him.

Shen heard the settling of cloth and armor, a slight courtesy Zed gave to announce his arrival.

“Had enough?” he asked smugly.

“Not a game,” Shen ground out in return. Yes, he had had enough. This wasn’t a battle he could win and he didn’t have the patience to stand Zed’s gloating.

“No, you’re right.” The smile was gone now, Shen heard, replaced with the coldness he was more used to from his old friend, but something was off, he just couldn’t place it. “Though it was fun while it lasted, I have come here for something and I intend to take it.”

“What,” he demanded to know. Shen had nothing to take.

“You.”

Shen had no idea what that could mean, but he didn’t intend on finding out.

He ducked beneath the punch Zed directed at him and replied with shouldering Zed’s middle, attempting to shove him over the very near edge. He caught on too quickly and stepped to the side. The momentum would have carried Shen over the edge himself if his opponent hadn’t latched onto his arm and pulled him back. The metal claws on Zed’s gauntlets carving out deep ravines of flesh in the process.

Paying no mind to the wound, or the the fact that he’d just been saved, Shen rounded on Zed once more. Shen had kept his eyes closed during his flight, knowing that the light would only aid Zed in finding him, but now he opened them again aiming in startling his foe. He was unaware that the light was much dimmer than before, but it did prove to be effective. He heard Zed’s shout of surprise and followed the disruption with a kick.

The blow landed, but much too slowly. Zed staggered, but grabbed onto Shen’s leg and pulled harshly, throwing him off balance. Unable to command his body appropriately, he lost his footing.

Shen’s skull connected with rock with a harsh crack and the light flickered out of his eyes.

Zed stood over him with a dark curiosity, red-grey eyes waiting patiently.

\-----------------  
Across the wide expanse of void that separated Shen and his body, the celestials he’d come to speak to chimed and buzzed anxiously. The Eye of Twilight was unresponsive to their questions and hadn’t even met them with a formal greeting. It was quite unlike anything they’d seen before. The strangeness had begun before even his arrival; it had taken him an inordinately long time to contact them.

They wondered if maybe that had something to do with the Eye’s current predicament. But certainly it couldn’t have been, because if he were imbalanced he wouldn’t have made it amongst them at all. Though perhaps he’d fallen out of balance again once he’d made it to them. The idea sent them into an uproar.

 _Completely unheard of!_ One chimed.

 _Absurd! Insulting!_ Another rang.

 _ **He** is our avatar?!_ Tolled a third.

Discord reigned for a while until they had settled themselves, worn from the dissent and lack of unity they usually maintained. While they all came to the conclusion that the Eye’s lack of responsiveness was something of an affront, they did not agree on what should be done. Some called for his replacement, others for an investigation to see what had gone wrong, though the majority decided that returning the Eye to the mortal plane and waiting to see what came of it was their best bet.

However, returning his consciousness wasn’t as simple as a task as they would have hoped. In another circumstance they could have done so with ease, but it seemed that the connection he forged between their world and his own was weak, whether that was because of his haste to latch onto their initial contact or for some unknown reason was left to debate.

A consensus was reached that they would strengthen their own end of the connection so as to ease the Eye’s reforging. The last time they’d done something similar to this was when they’d made contact with the very first Eye of Twilight. It sat wrong with a great number of celestials that they would have to do this again for an Eye that couldn’t handle his given task.

Unknownst to them, as Shen’s physical body fell unconscious, the remnants of the soul he’d left there reopened the link and drew the two parts back to a whole inside his vessel. Eased by the efforts of the celestials Shen snapped from one reality to the other nearly too quickly for his mind to withstand.

\---------------  
The light flickered back, the brightness returned to its normalcy, Zed noticed in the second before Shen rolled over and retched. Shen’s limbs quivered beneath his weight as the man struggled for breath.

With a “hmph,” Zed reached down and grabbed Shen by the back of his collar and hauled him the short trek to the raging muddy mess that spilled over the lip of the plateau in a waterfall. Without hesitation, Zed forced Shen’s head beneath the water, waiting a long moment before pulling him out again. When he heard a sputtering intake he repeated the process, holding him under longer this time til Shen thrashed and clawed at Zed’s hand.

Zed yanked him out and tossed him aside, leaving him leaning against a boulder on the river’s bank. Shen coughed up a mouthful of water and mud and clawed his way to his feet, using the boulder for support. Glaring up at the red eyed man at last, Shen could see that his impression earlier was right - there was something very wrong with Zed.

His foe held himself strangely. It wasn’t the form he’d been taught by their master or the self-taught stance he’d seen him use in battle before, but was something more feral in nature. His shoulders scrunched high and he leaned forward as if ready to chase or pounce, but it was his eyes that truly revealed his odd nature. Instead of the hot ruby Shen had grown accustomed to there was instead a sooty blackness covering them, like a cooling coal.

“What happened to you?” Shen asked, but he didn’t expect an answer.

Zed hummed. “Enlightenment,” he decided.

“Why are you here. Why now.” _You have never come looking for an unfair fight before_ , Shen supplied mentally.

Instead of answering, Zed began pulling off his mask. A misty gust of wind pulled back the crimson cloak hood beneath leaving him exposed to the raging elements. His black hair whipped around him like a hydra, unimpeded by the rain trying to cling to it.

“I am here to take what is owed me.” _And to inflict as much pain as possible while doing so_ , he thought with a smirk.

“I owe you nothing.” Since the day that Zed led his attack against the temple, Shen absolved himself of any debts or promises Zed may have held over him - all but one, at least.

“You owe me everything!” Zed roared, throwing his mask aside sending it skittering off into the darkness. He stalked forward, the grey mist swirling in his eyes like a pollution.

Shen stepped away from the rock, his legs now ready to hold him independently. He adopted a defensive stance and felt his ki rush to his command at last.

“Your gratitude, your loyalty, your life. Are mine.”

The warrior didn’t respond. As far as he could see, Zed had grown mad. It seemed the shadows had instilled him with an illness that would not be cured through reasoning. Thankfully, Shen now had full control over his body, though he was far from peak condition. This would not be an easy battle, he only hoped that Zed’s madness would be enough weakness for him to exploit.

Zed lunged forward, striking upward with his blades as thunder crashed around them. Summoning a shield, Shen deflected the hit. His energy was not strong enough to absorb all of the force, but was capable of redirecting it at the cost of a slight cut along his forearm.

Calling forth a sizeable amount of ki, Shen formed a nearly solid katana and parried Zed’s next slash. Using his unarmed hand, he struck out to catch Zed’s wrist, careful to avoid the barbs on his gauntlets. Though Zed was not a small man by any means, managing his weight and momentum Shen flipped him over his shoulder.

Before he even hit the ground, the ninja switched himself out with a shade and hurled a shuriken from both he and his shadow. Shen was caught off guard by the sudden swap, he avoided Zed’s flying blade, but was clipped across the thigh by the apparition’s. The wound was deep, but not fatal.

Zed charged forward again, sending two shades before him, one on each side. To prevent being surrounded, Shen dashed through the tree he was standing in front of. He hoisted himself on top of a reachable branch and waited as Zed’s shadows ran past and with acute timing swung himself back down crashing into Zed feet first.

The impact sent them both sprawling, mud, twigs, and blood smearing across them and tangling in their hair and clothes. Shen’s head spun horribly - a combination of his failed meeting with the celestials, the head injury, the rush of adrenaline, his near drowning, and a moderate amount of blood loss. He blinked his eyes slowly as the trees and streaks of rain twitched in half-circles over and over as the world rang with a high pitched whine. It was all he could do to not retch again.

Zed ran his tongue over his split lip as he sat up. He’d be damned if Shen didn’t know how to use his weight to his advantage.

The ninja leaned back on his hand as looked over to Shen whose head was lolling this way and that. Seemed the fool did more damage to himself than anything else.

After brushing away some debris, stalked his way over to his adversary, staring down at the damaged man once again. It didn’t look like he’d be getting up from this one, however. His eyes were dull and distant. No amount of water would rouse him from this, he thought with a slight frown.

Shen gazed upward at the half-dozen scorched rubies spinning around him and vaguely took notice of his predicament. He swallowed down bile and clenched his fists, surprised to feel his energy-forged weapon still in his hand. But what to do with it…

Taking two quick breaths and screwing his eyes closed, Shen launched himself at Zed’s legs, knocking him over again with a startled grunt. Wasting no time or energy, Shen cleaved downward with his sword. At the last moment he opened his eyes and saw his brother’s fear as death closed on him.

And he faltered.

The power he poured into the strike was swept away like dust in the wind, giving Zed just enough time to roll out of the way. Their positions reversed in an instant and Zed smash-smash-smashed Shen’s wrist onto the rocky ground until his grip was forced open and the katana faded away, just as his will power had.

Shen swung his free hand in the general direction of Zed’s head, but it was caught easily. He was flipped over and his hands bound together with the sash that Zed had cut loose from his waist. Shen struggled bodily, but gave up when a hand was pressed down on his shoulder blades, forcing his face into the mud. He laid still, breathing heavily and savoring the cool rainwater washing out his wounds.

The fallen warrior had no idea what Zed wanted with him, but he hoped that if it were death he had planned that it came quickly.

Wet hair and hot breath spilled over his neck as he heard the words: “You’re mine.” Shen flexed at his bonds, but said nothing. Nothing he said would fix this, whatever _this_ was.

Shen was unprepared when he felt teeth drag down his neck toward his shoulder and bite. Hard. He yelped at the shock and feeling of broken skin.

What in the seven hells was Zed _doing_? Humiliating him? That was low, even for an outcast.

A moment later Zed pulled away with a low hum. He felt his shirt being tugged at and cloth ripping. A quick series of cuts later and the garment was in shreds and thrown aside leaving him exposed to Zed’s scrutiny and the pelting rain. Shen knew there were plenty of scars there, some of them created by Zed’s hand, others he had scored in various battles over the years.

Metal claws traced over a set of marks Shen remembered receiving some time ago during a journey to slay a cursed mountain lion that would only pray on members of a defenceless village. The wrath of a witch or something. The details seemed to elude him as the healed wounds were torn open again. He sealed his eyes closed once more to block out the pain. He wouldn’t give Zed the satisfaction of hearing him.

His fingers found another scar and dug into that one as well. Shen tried recounting the memory to give his mind release; the sound of a child screaming came to him first, then the smell of smoke. This was a memory he usually avoided, but he latched onto it now, the vividness acting as a kindness rather than the nightmare it usually was. The scar itself was a burn mark about the size of his fist, one he’d garnered when slaying an entire family of pyromancers. The town they lived in pled for mercy, they were completely ignorant to the Eye’s purpose and he spent no time trying to ease their minds. The family he came for was planning to set fire to the Placidium. 20 of them in all, he felled. Only one member survived. A little girl who lacked her family’s arcane affinity. The sound of her screams and the smell of burning flesh oftentimes echoed in his dreams.

Now that scar was criss-crossed with new wounds, bound to heal over again with this memory overlapping the old.

Zed did this twice more before deciding his work was done. By the end Shen was feeling faint. The wound on his leg still oozing, and the fresh cuts on his back loosing more blood than was easily recoverable. Perhaps he would be left now so that he might have peace before either death came for him or the heavens showed mercy. He would accept either gracefully.

But his reprieve would not come just yet.

Shen’s mind bounced around madly as he felt the bottom half of his gi tugged and torn away as roughly as the top. He renewed his struggle through the process, distressed at the loss of his modesty, but it earned him nothing.

A shiver wracked his body as Zed pulled his gauntleted hands down his sides, though he tried to convince himself it was because of the coldness of the storm and not the contact he was forced to endure. He just wanted this to end already. His frustration mounted as the hands roved over his naked frame until he snapped.

“Just get it over with!” He didn’t know what more Zed had planned, but if it lasted much longer he would surely bleed out before the end of it anyway.

“Your ignorance astounds me,” he patronized.

Shen growled.

“Tell me, have you ever been with a man?” Zed asked casually, leaning back to remove his gauntlets.

Shen was baffled. _Been with a man? What did that-_

When the realization hit him, his body tensed, his mind screamed for him to do something- anything.

“That’s a no. A woman, then?” Clunk, clunk as they hit the ground.

“Don’t.”

Zed hummed, “This will be a new experience for you then.”

“Zed, don’t do this.” _Please, please don’t do this._

“Your weakness led to this.” _Don’t make me laugh._

Shen yanked at his ties until his wrists bled and then pulled harder. Only when he was certain he would break his bones should he continue did he let up.

During his struggle Zed had loosed his trousers and began to stroke himself. It gave him a rush to see the frenzy he could send his rival into with his words alone. The amount of control he had and he hadn’t even acted upon him.

The fact that Zed would be stealing his purity was almost as thrilling. It didn’t really surprise him that Shen was about as pure as they could come. Zed had no intentions on taking this slowly for his sake, however. The way he saw it, Shen’s body was his to do with as he pleased. And please himself he would.

From his vantage point he could see Shen’s eye wheeling wildly, part delirious and part trapped animal. It was beautiful.

Zed watched him closely as he ran his free hand across Shen’s ass and parted the cleft of his cheeks with two fingers. The delirium cleared, his eyes suddenly sharp as he craned his neck to get a look at his tormentor.

“Stop!”

He only hummed absently.

Despite the coldness of the rain they’ve been in, Shen’s body was astonishingly warm and to Zed’s chilled skin it felt like an invitation. He was done waiting.

Zed stood up, still keeping one leg on either side of his bound prize, and reached down to grab Shen’s wrists. He levered the man’s arms upward, the muscle and ligament pulling taut as they approached his shoulders. Shen tried to resist the strain, but was forced to comply or else have his joints pop loose. The warrior pulled his knees beneath him to try to lessen the tension, pressing his face further into the mud in the process.

The ninja summoned a shade to replace him in holding Shen’s arms in that precarious position. It would prevent him from squirming too much.

He dropped back down to his knees, knocking Shen’s legs aside to make room for his own. Zed palmed a cheek, appreciative of the muscle and how it quivered beneath him. He felt Shen push his shoulders to the limit as Zed aligned himself.

The lack of preparation and Shen’s resistance made his task difficult, but the scream he was rewarded with when he passed the first ring of tissue and Shen dislocated one of his shoulders in tandem only encouraged him further. He felt warm blood coat him as he pressed in. He rested a moment when he reached the hilt, savoring the way Shen’s body squirmed as it tried to reject his entry.

Shen’s world danced with black and white dots the moment he was punctured. The pain was worse than anything he’d ever experienced. He was sure he was being split in half, or at least he hoped he were. At least that way he’d be put out of this agony.

The corners of his vision began to blur and the world lost some of its color. He could feel movement behind him, inside him, but he was more focused on the tingling he felt in his fingertips as they lost circulation. The racket of the thundering storm seemed strangely more important than it had a few minutes ago and he wondered if he might be struck by lightning.  
  
He lost sense of time as he listened to the angry hissing of the leaves and moaning of the trees, but eventually he felt the motion behind him work into a frenzy before halting completely. He may have heard some words spoken, but couldn’t bring himself to listen or care. His arm ached again as it dropped.

Two piercing ruby eyes appeared in his vision, staring back at him with an unidentifiable look. He let himself be pushed onto his side and blinked slowly when callused hands grabbed his chin. Scarred lips moved soundlessly.

Finally a thought occurred to him: _My own brother_ , it said.

 _My own brother_ , it chanted.

Black boots passed his vision for a moment before returning and standing in place a few feet away.

_My own brother._

A pit of endless blackness opened in the ground, completely flat and depthless, like a drawing. The boots approached him and he felt himself being lifted and thrown over a shoulder as if he were weightless.

_My own brother._

The boots stepped forward and they fell, the black veil of death consuming them. It was so cold.

_My own brother._

_My own brother._

_My own… brother?_


	2. Herd's Haunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: pedophilia mention, non-consensual drug usage

The world jump started into color and warmth like a fire lit in a sunless cave. Usually the eruption of sound was the biggest disruption to the senses, but on this night it happened to be the lack thereof. The storm he’d just stepped out of was still on the horizon and the compound was silent. At least until his squelching footsteps marched up to the temple’s monolithic doors.

They swung open with ease at his command, leading the way into a grand hall. Immense pillars climbed into the rafters high above, the black and gold banners that clothed them glittered in the low light of the braziers. Ornamental statuettes and gilded paintings attempting to bring life to the room in the same manner that a bird would bring bits of bone to spruce up its nest.

An exhausted disciple was stoking the braziers, preparing the room for the morning meal. At the entrance of her master, she jumped to attention. She clutched the firewood to her chest and gave a silent bow, but to her great surprise, he approached. Even from across the room, he exuded power and commanded complete attention as though he were a large cat one had happened upon in the forest.

While she had been a part of the Order for nearly two seasons, she had never attracted the Master’s notice, so when he addressed her by name she was astonished.

“Master,” she greeted. She almost stumbled over that simple word, his nearness was overwhelming.

The student barely had time to drop the wood before a naked, bleeding man nearly twice her weight was thrown into her arms. She staggered, but held her grip.

“If he dies, you’ll share his fate.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving the hapless girl with a paling, unconscious burden.

Silver moonlight bounced off the oak floors, the trail chasing Zed into his quarters. He lit the lamp on the bureau, more out of habit than any real need, and began to disrobe. Pulling loose his mask, he noticed a chip in the metal just beneath the left eye. He ran a thumb over the new imperfection contemplatively before setting it beside the lamp.

The ninja walked around tea table in the center of the room and the approached the round window that looked out upon the gardens. The moon glared down upon him balefully before it was swept beneath the approaching storm once more. An ornate wardrobe loomed beside the window, the fire from the lantern accentuating the deep reds and browns in the graining. Its doors popped open with a squeak to reveal an empty wooden mannequin and brackets on either side.

Zed disassembled his armor in an almost ritualistic manner; the bracers and gauntlets came loose with a few sharp tugs, then the boots, and the shurike- Zed paused. One of his weapons was absent. With an annoyed hum he hung it up without its twin and continued. The chest piece followed and the mantle soon after, the latter of which was thrown onto the window sill to dry. His shirt and pants quickly accompanied it.

At last, he pulled on new bottoms and toweled off his hair. He leaned heavily onto the dresser with both hands, taking a deep breath as he stared at the glinting chip in his mask. The bobbing, soulful light of the lantern highlighted the score, the silver insides bright and exposed.

And with a swipe of his arms it was sent careening through the air, the lantern and inkwell smashed beside it on the floor, sheaves of paper rained down like dead feathers.

The table split in half when it collided with the wall, splinters spraying about on impact.

With a roar the dresser crashed, sliding and spilling its contents as it went.

The tapestries and curtains met a similar end.

Suddenly out of things to destroy, Zed found himself looking at the devastation. The wall and floor were stained black with ink and the air smelled of oil. The table was mangled, one leg dangling as the face was propped up in the far corner of the room, the other half left a sizable scratch in the wardrobe. His clothing had bunched up in a mess beneath the bureau, which had, in fact, come to rest on top of his bedroll.

He didn’t plan on sleeping tonight anyway.

Zed ghosted out of the room, ignoring the chicken-eyed looks from the students he’d roused with his outburst and made his way along a practiced route with purposeful strides. He didn’t flinch as his bare feet struck the gravel of the stone garden, and didn’t even bother with opening the gated doors, instead opting to replace himself with a shadow without breaking stride. On the other side a shrine was centered at the end of the stone path, elevated by a handful of steps and illuminated by candlelight.

He took the steps two at a time and finally halted when he passed the eve of the roof. Aged wax spilled down the sills around the chamber and the familiar flooring worn with years of footwork hosted an overused cushion placed just before a raised pedestal. In the center of the room a carved ebony box sat innocently.

“Vesper, what did you do,” Zed accused no one, poorly concealed rage edging into his voice.

One by one, the candles suffocated with a sluggishness certainly designed to be taunting. Zed watched with piercing eyes as an invisible hand pinched out each one, wisps of smoke rising up after them. When the last light was extinguished, shifting strips of darkness pulled from nothingness stitched themselves together to form a vaguely human shape just behind the pedestal.

In a hollow imitation, Zed’s own voice echoed back at him. “I helped you get what you wanted, just as I have always done.”

“I did _not_  want this!” he seethed.

The ghastly blackness looked as though it placed a hand against its face in thought. “Which part? The pleasure you took? Or defeating your long-standing rival?”

Zed growled, unsure of what to say. “That was not the victory I wanted! It was-”

“-Dishonorable?” it interjected.

“-unfulfilling.” He corrected.

“Oh, is that all?” It laughed as if it knew some joke that Zed did not. “Soon you will see that you got exactly what you wanted. When you do, I have a favor to ask of you in return.” It bowed haltingly, and collapsed into the floorboards like black sand. The candles remained cold, leaving Zed bathed in the black night air.

“That’s not good enough!” he barked, but he knew the discussion was over. He paced angrily for a moment before stalking off.

* * *

A day and a half after his arrival, Shen finally awoke. As his mind grew into consciousness, pain steadily followed. Fighting through the cumbersome fog slowing his thought, the warrior’s instincts kicked in.

Instinctive reaction surpassed logical thought and urged him to find the source of the pain. As he made to do that, his shoulder screamed bright with agony, rebelling at the command to reposition.

Before he could get any further into lifting himself, a voice called out to him, distinctly masculine and aged, and strangely cheery.

“Hey there!”

He struggled to right himself, to face the potential threat, but was pinned down with a soft touch.

“Whoa now, take it easy. I ain’t gonna hurt ya.”

His head felt empty, hollow. The words and sounds bounced around his skull meaninglessly. He tried to focus on something, his gaze floating around until it latched onto the wizened old face in front of him. A discolored scar covered part of the left side of his face, starting at his hairline and ending just beneath his ear in a backwards L shape. The eye it crossed was milky and sightless, but that didn’t seem to deter his bright smile. His grey hair was long and well maintained, stuffed into a neat bun, and his facial hair looked intentionally grizzled. He reminded Shen of an old goat.

“Where am I?” His voice was hoarse and dry, the words felt like glass coming up his throat.

The man gave a tight smile, “The Order of the Shadow’s temple.”

Shen’s mind buzzed with that information, unsure what to make of it.

“You got a pretty nasty bump on yer head. How much do you remember?”

He didn’t have to think very hard before the memories came flooding back to him. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the onslaught of sensory his brain supplied. All the memories but the ones that explained how he got here had come to him. He knew he was too weak to have traveled the three or four day journey it would have taken to get here, let alone survived that long without bleeding out. Which brought up another question.

“Enough,” he answered. “How long…?”

“‘Bout two days.”

He heard the creak of old bones as the man stood.

“Just a sec.” His footsteps led away, then the slide of a door. He heard his billy-goat voice tell someone “Hey, he’s awake.”

Shen was disconcerted with his current position - lying prone put him at a considerable disadvantage should be be in danger. His pain-addled brain realized that there wasn’t an immediate threat and that, really, he wouldn’t have been able to do much if there were, and so was begrudgingly grateful that he wasn’t laying on his wounds.

“Okay,” he announced with a clasp of his hands. “Now, let’s take a look at those cuts, shall we?"

Shen might have opposed, but it didn’t really sound like he had a choice.

“I’m Nobu, by the way,” he offered as he knelt down and with deft fingers and a few quick cuts the bandages on his back were pulled away.

The cloth pulled at his healing skin and his breath stuttered. Shen did not respond in kind. He had no way of knowing how much the medic knew or what he might do with the information he was given.

“I’ve got a pretty good guess who you are, anyway. The eyes kinda give it away. Well, that, and Master Zed woulda just killed anyone else in yer condition.”

Shen heard a bottle uncork beside him and a potent smell wafted from that direction. The liquid contents shook around as Nobu wetted a cloth with it.

“Sure got a number done on ya, huh?” Nobu asked with something that wasn’t quite sympathy in his voice. “Now, I know it’s not really my place, but I gotta wonder how this happened - this is gonna sting-”

His back felt like it was on fire.

If Shen didn’t know any better he’d have thought that burning oil had just been poured onto him. He felt the cloth follow the wide cuts that had once been from the lion, clenched his fists when the liquid fire spilled into his crossed out burn scar, and held back a shout as further punctures were washed out. The bite wound on his shoulder throbbed angrily at the attention. He ground his teeth and his body shook with pain, but it eventually passed and he let out a heavy breath.

Nobu continued like nothing had happened “-I mean, Zed talks pretty highly of you. And all you managed was to bloody his lip?” He laughed humorlessly. “Doesn’t sound like that great of an opponent to me.”

Shen ignored the remark and offered no explanation.

The medic turned back from grabbing a jar of ointment and frowned disappointedly. “Not much of a talker, huh? S’alright, I get it.”

He swiped the ointment over the inflamed skin, soothing the heat and relieving some of the pain.

“How about we talk about me then. We’re gonna be spending some time together, might as well get to know each other, yeah?”

Nobu wrapped the area up again skillfully, careful not to smear the medicine or pull at the skin. He began removing the bandages on his head as he started. “I’m from the the southern isles, Gelharo, to be exact. S’where the accent comes from. Used make a livin’ offa the sea, til I was dragged into the war.”

The burning liquid was applied, this time with less pain, followed by the cool ointment. “Had to cut some of yer hair. Sorry about that.”

“How I got up here with Zed is, well, it's a long story. One best told over a tankard. Or a flask of sake, since that’s all there is here in the north.” He sounded a bit homesick over it.

His arms were treated next, his chafed wrists needing only the salve. “These’ll heal up quick,” Nobu commented. “The rest might take a while, ‘specially that one on yer leg.”

Shen felt the blanket over his waist pulled away and flinched.

“No need to be modest,” he chided, but then continued a bit sadly. “I do have to treat all yer wounds, you know. Even this one.”

“Don’t!” Shen’s fists clenched and he tried to stand. He didn’t even get as far as rolling over before his arms gave out. His left shoulder protested violently and a spike of pain shot up his spine, nearly immobilizing him.

“‘Don’t’ yerself! Yer acting like a child, man up would ya?”

Shen buried his face in the mat beneath him and ground his teeth.

“Treated all sorts like this. Usually women, sometimes men. Kid, once, in my war days. Really such a shameful thing. If ya ask me, it’s not even about the pleasure for them men, it’s about feeling powerful and inflicting pain, but there’s a lot better ways ta go about doin’ that, ya know? Surprises me that Master Zed would take part in somethin’ like that. He likes his power, I’ll give ya that, but he’s not cruel. ‘Cept when it comes to you, looks like.”

Nobu talked through the process, not stopping in his one-sided conversation even when his patient let out a yelp.

“Alright, last one.” Unlike the others, the gash on his leg had been sewn up and so it was marginally less painful when it was tended.

The old man made to stand up, but then exclaimed “Ah, almost forgot!” He moved his materials farther away. “Bit foolish to go runnin around without any shoes.”

At last, the procedure was over and Shen was left feeling drained.

The blanket was tossed back over him. “I’ll give you yer blanket back, but don’t go fallin’ asleep on me. I’m gonna go get ya something from the kitchen and you’d better still be awake when I get back.”

The warrior dropped into an exhausted, dreamless sleep before Nobu even left.

* * *

 

That night Zed decided to visit the healer’s hut. It was the first time he’d come since he’d dropped Shen into his student’s care. He told himself he hadn’t bothered because the man’s life was out of his hands anyway, that even if he stopped by it would have made no difference in the outcome. Which is true, of course, but there was more to it than that, he was just too tired to explore that in detail.

He had met with the healer over a meal, however, and discussed their latest arrival. Zed hadn’t really been forthcoming, but then he didn’t really need to be. Nobu was an excellent medic and an observant man, whatever conclusions he drew were likely to be the correct ones and he was wise enough to not ask questions. The one question he did venture to ask was if Zed needed healing also, but was delivered in a way that meant he already knew the answer and was only asking out of courtesy.

The only reason he was here now was to discuss how he wanted to handle the duration of his rival’s stay, something that had been on Zed’s mind since after his discussion with Vesper.

It seemed that he only had two options: to free him or kill him. Neither of those were appealing.

In releasing him it would ignite a feud with the Kinkou, this… act of aggression would not go without retaliation. Crippled though they were, Zed had no desire to pit his people against theirs, not when there were more pressing matters to be dealt with than a bunch of self-restrictive fools. There was also the issue of how his own disciples would view such an act. His haste to be rid himself of the used, bleeding, near-corpse of his rival that night had ruined any chance he’d had at keeping Shen’s presence in the court a secret; the whispers had spread like wildfire. If he simply let the man go, what would it say to his students when he was the one preaching to eliminate weakness and balance - what Shen was and what he stood for?

The simplest answer would be to kill him. Though that was out of the question too. Zed still hadn’t had a true battle with Shen, after all, and he wasn’t willing to let that be stolen from him. He’d waited too long for that.

He did need to decide what he was going to do with the man though, and soon. The girl he’d left Shen with that night had hurried to find him to inform that her charge had woken. But Zed was in no hurry to visit him, and even now his feet felt reluctant to take him there. An unidentifiable and remarkedly _grimey_  feeling bogged him down and he was overcome with an impulse to bathe.

It was dusk now, when he approached the cabin. A gentle rap against the door frame summoned the healer, who stepped out to converse.

“He’s asleep,” he supplied.

Zed hummed, “How is he?”

“Pretty good, pretty good. Not in any serious risk. He’s a tough one, he’ll pull through.”

The ninja nodded, then brushed past the healer, making his way into the hut. Nobu made no effort to stop him, only waited in the threshold after Zed passed through.

The cabin’s interior had changed some since the years of his youth, which was to be expected what with the different healers it had housed since then. Where once there had been a workbench beneath a west-facing window there was now only a shelf supporting an array of various colored concoctions. Immediately across the room from the doorway stood a dark-stained, crested cabinet, which he knew housed any number of elixirs, safely kept beneath an iron lock. In the center of the room a tall table was perched above a cold sand pit. The middle of the round table was cut out, a chain suspended from a beam on the ceiling down through it. Helpful in brewing potions - or tea - he’d been told.

His eye skipped over all of this and quickly zeroed in on his target. Tucked into the corner to his right, a lump of bandages and blankets spread over a resting mat on the floor. With silent tread, Zed approached. The blanket was thrown loosely over the man’s waist, leaving the pink-stained cloths open to the cooling night air. The wrappings criss-crossed his back and shoulder like the beginnings of a Shuriman burial rite. The patches of exposed skin were discolored, ranging from an angry pink to the blue and brown mottling of bruises.

His left shoulder was swollen and placed uncomfortably by his side, a position that was odd to sleep in. His right arm was tucked beneath his head, adding support to the lone pillow he was given. His sight flickered over a patch of gauze on the joint just between shoulder and neck. The hazy memory of copper on his tongue, the heat on his teeth as they sunk into warm flesh, the slight pop as the skin gave way-

He sucked in a quick breath through his nose and pulled his eyes away, focusing instead on the wrappings winding across his head.

His black hair was long and unruly, desperately in need of a cut. It was just long enough to get into his eyes and cover his ears. Zed was irritated just looking at it. Though well covered in the darkness of the strands, blood and dirt clumped and matted the majority of it together, a twig and a stray leaf or two protruded from one of the mats.

Zed frowned and moved on, trailing from the back of his head to his face. It had been some years since he’d seen his rival’s true face, he knelt down to get a closer look and remarked on how much it had changed. His jaw line had hardened, devoid of the youthful roundness it once held, three or four day old stubble covered his face, framing his thin lips and accentuating the small frown he wore in sleep. The bridge of his nose knotted where it had once broken and not mended properly. He inherited his father’s wide cheekbones, more pronounced now in age. A thin scar, pale and puckered marked his brow as well, not a wound Zed had ever seen on him. A slight furrow between his eyes did not go unnoticed. The ninja half pondered if it was from the pain or something else entirely.

He stood once more, eyes skating over the man’s form in a final sweep. He struggled to pry his gaze away from the dip at his hips, the small of his back, just before the blanket obscured the view.

A  _tick_ in the floorboards as Nobu adjusted his weight reminded him he wasn’t alone. He quickly turned away and stepped back outside the abode, the medic sliding the door closed again behind them.

Before he’d fully considered it, Zed already found himself saying “Give him the suppressant.”

If the old man was surprised, it didn’t show. “I don’t need to remind you of the risks..?”

“No, you don’t.”

“Alright. But I think we oughta wait til he can walk. Don’t wanna risk leaving the stitches in too long. Infection and all that.”

Zed paused to think on this. He trusted Nobu’s judgement on nearly everything, but not on this. He knew the warrior too well to underestimate him. “No, give it to him as soon as he wakes.”

Nobu shrugged, “As you wish.”

“How long will it take for him to heal?”

“With the suppressant? It’ll be weeks before he can walk, months before he’s fully healed up.”

Zed nodded. “As night falls,” he parted.

“As night falls.”

* * *

 

The next morning, Shen awoke to a soft _tink-crshh tink-crshh_ , rhythmic and gentle, coming from somewhere behind him. A languid tune hummed in baritone accompanied it. Shen focused on the sound as he sought to pull his mind from the banshee’s wail of pain.

After a moment it finally clicked in his mind what the sound was. Herbs. Nobu was grinding herbs.

When at last he could focus, he opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. A decently sized room, though not large by any standard, it could hold ten wounded men, perhaps twelve if necessary. Though the furniture had been replaced and moved about, the place was still easily recognizable to him. He’d spent enough time here when he was young that the painting on the wall depicting cherry blossoms and chrysanthemums floating down a stream was not unfamiliar to him, though the painting had not aged well, it seemed. The dye was chipped and peeling in many spots, and dulled in the places it was not. The cabinet in the corner of his vision was not new, however, neither had it been moved from its original location.

It seemed his observations hadn’t gone unnoticed, as the rhythm and humming stopped and a lively “Good morning!” called out to him.

“You missed dinner last night, but yer up just in time for breakfast. Well, maybe not _just_  in time. I saved you a bowl, but it’s not steamin’ any more.” A clattering over his shoulder as the meal was picked up and the old medic walked into view, two bowls in hand.

Though he tensed as the man approached, Shen made no move to get up. If he was meant to be dead, he would be, he reasoned. Laying flat minimized his suffering and he was quite sure that he wouldn’t be able to stand even if he wanted to, so he had no plans to move.

Nobu placed the bowls down in front of him. A generous helping of miso along with a side of rice, topped with a thin slice of pork. But despite not having eaten in days, he had no appetite - he often didn’t in the mornings - or at least, not at first. Even luke warm, the smell was enough to evoke a groan from his stomach.

Much to Shen’s chagrin, Nobu assisted him in getting into a workable position. He did not sit upright, instead propped partially onto his side with an extra pillow. His right elbow supported his weight, freeing his left to handle the bowls. He felt some of the gouges pull open, protesting the movement, and he could not move his available arm too quickly without a jab of pain, though he could lift the food reliably. However, that was as far as he got before pausing.

Again he reminded himself that if Zed wanted him dead he would be already. There was nothing to fear from the food, nothing that could worsen the situation, at least. At great length he debated simply not eating at all. Why was he here anyway? What plans did his-- did Zed have for him? Whatever they were, he wanted nothing more than to divert them, and if that meant starving… On the other hand, if he did starve, he would be too weak to flee when the time came. Whether he ate or not, Zed was getting what he wanted.

So he ate.

As soon as the broth hit his tongue he realized just how famished he was. He plucked the majority of the tofu cubes out with chopsticks before simply tipping the bowl back, draining the soup with several large gulps, manners forgotten. Though not especially warm, it proved satisfying, other than the odd aftertaste. The taste was bitter, a bit metallic, and made his tongue feel heavy in his mouth.

Nobu had since returned to his work table, but with a glance Shen knew he was being watched. It was all the confirmation he needed.

The bowl clattered to the floor mockingly. Without hesitation, he jammed his fingers deep in this throat. He coughed and gagged, but it wasn’t enough before the medic rushed over and pulled his hand back. Shen struggled against him, shoving him back and trying to twist his other arm out from beneath him, weeping wounds forgotten. This attempt, too, was countered. A knuckle dug into the soft skin of his throat, just beneath his chin. Traitorously, his head twisted away and his jaw snapped shut. He thrashed to no avail, the old man pinned one arm and he could not roll over to free the other. After a minute, he knew it was too late to expel whatever it was he ingested and stilled. Slowly, Nobu let up on him and stepped back, looking down at him seriously.

“Was really hopin’ you wouldn’t do that.” He smoothed back some hairs that escaped the bun stressfully. “Well, first one’s always the worst anyway.”

“What was that?” Shen ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting the lingering bitterness.

Nobu sighed. “‘Spose you’ll be figurin’ it out in a few minutes anyway.” The nurse kept a close eye on Shen as he started to clean up the rice that had scattered everywhere. “‘S called Herd’s Haunt. A ki suppressant.”

Shen’s mind reeled.

Ki suppressants and inhibitors had been outlawed in the Kinkou for as long as he could remember, as the side effects could be especially heinous. It had been known to drive some men to insanity or even a permanent loss of ki - a fate considered worse than death amongst most of their ranks - when exposed to it for any significant time.

Its primary function was to keep a person rooted, restrict them into using only their physical power. When carefully controlled it was helpful in training the body, denying it the aid of ki. However, its use was far too often abused. Prisoners would be forced to ingest it, and in doing to, made their attempts to retaliate, defend, or escape nearly impossible. It was not unlike clipping a bird’s wings.

Shen had to wonder if that’s what Zed had in mind for him. To keep him trapped here, wounded and defenseless beneath his heel.

But _why_? Why not simply kill him and be done with it?

Shen felt a pit in his stomach, cold, hard, and unnamed.

He gave Nobu a steely look as he swept up what was left of the rice. The old goat did a double take when he noticed. “Hey, it was nothin’ personal. Master’s orders.”

The warrior wasn’t listening, his mind elsewhere. With his ki gone, or at least dampened, his healing would come to a crawl. Any attempt to escape would have to wait until he was fully mended - or at least healed well enough to walk. If he made his escape while he still seemed unfit, he would have the element of surprise. Though, of course, there was an increased risk of being discovered before he could put enough space between himself and the compound.

How he would leave the walls at all was another problem altogether, and one bridge he would have to cross when he came to it. He didn’t have enough information to… to…

A pressure built behind his eyes, mounting until it could not be ignored. He nursed it by rubbing the bridge of his nose, though it did little to soothe. Soon he felt his tongue prickle and an excess of saliva flooded his mouth. His cheeks flushed hotly and he was sure he was going to be sick. He peeked his eyes open and regretted it immediately - the world swam and the walls crawled, the mural across from him was suddenly animated, blossoms swirling in the eddies of the river, the gaps in the floorboards growing into chasms, and the window sliding further away like a nightmare.

He pulled the supporting pillow out from beneath his torso and buried his face in the one under his head. The pressure was comforting, but did little to help his vertigo. Even the darkness behind his eyelids spun. His stomach roiled along with it and he fought down rising bile while the heat on his cheeks spread to his neck, across his shoulders, and raced like wildfire down his back. It soon consumed his whole body and he ached to kick off the blanket suffocating his lower half.

Shen heard a rattling coming from the center of the room, disproportionately loud and startled him into looking. Nobu was pulling a chain, raising a small pot beneath the table, the links clattering as they slipped through the hoop it was suspended by in the rafters. The warrior watched as each link clicked through and flinched.

_Tink-tink-tink-tink-tink_

_Tink-tink-tink-tink-tink_

_Tink-tink-tink-tink-tink_

The sound echoed in his marrow, his teeth sung - though that might have more to do with how hard he was grinding them together - and his fingertips itched. He scratched at his scalp to relieve the sensation, not noticing when he pulled loose the bandage, not feeling when skin and blood gathered beneath his nails.

The room looked dark, the corners shrouded and out of focus.

_Isn’t it morning?_

Vials of colorful liquid in the windowsill slowly became murky, losing their transparency as they became darker, thicker, redder. The longer he stared, the more full the containers became until the fluids bubbled and spilled out, washing over the edge and onto the floor, dribbling their mess into a pool. The pool grew and spread, overtaking the space beneath the healer’s table and slowly reaching out towards Shen. Nobu didn't seem to notice when he stepped into the viscous, sticky, red spill, even as it stained his feet and socks.

The warrior watched as it approached him, face going slack as he realized what it was. By the time it bubbled up against his mat the blood had covered nearly the whole floor. Shen glanced back at the overflowing bottles and was shocked to see that the flow hadn’t slowed at all, in fact it increased, spitting it out like a split throat. It pumped out in spurts, like the panicked cadence of a heart, though never slowing as it bled out like a true heart would.

The blood rose quickly, reaching the lip of the mat in short order. His blanket and become soaked in the stuff and he discarded it quickly. He pulled his limbs in, ignoring the pain, and rolled into his side, gasping the the protesting wounds.

Just as the wetness passed the top of the mat and rushed to meet him, Nobu appeared in his vision and put his hands on either side of Shen’s face. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Shen barely spared him a glance, the blood was now washed up against him and seemed a much more pressing matter. At this rate it would soon be up to his face unless he got upright.

He shoved Nobu off of him and made to sit up, but the healer was not deterred and grabbed at Shen’s hand, preventing him from pulling himself out of the gore. The pillow was now filled with the wetness and Shen felt it smear hotly against his face. The coppery smell was thick and sickening, it overwhelmed him. He hadn’t seen this much blood since -

He yanked his hands free and rolled over onto his back.

A demon’s face blinked back at him, a malicious grin spread across it’s lips, pulling the purple skin in inhuman ways. It put its hands up in a mockery of a placating gesture, speaking in tongues and approaching him slowly. It reached out, blackened, pointed nails sunken into bony fingers grasping for his shoulders.

Shouting against the pain it caused, Shen slid back into the corner, the slickness of the rising blood easing the movement, but making this hand slip as he used the wall to try to rise.

The demon pulled back and looked down at him curiously as if wondering how it might best deal with him. It stalked off after a moment, making for the door, but throwing glances back at him as it went. It seemed unphased as it waded through ankle-deep blood and the Eye struggled to remain the same.

As it opened the door and shouted some garbled language, Shen braced himself and took a deep, dizzying breath before forcing his legs beneath him. When the creature turned back to him he was standing unsteadily, a great deal of weight placed on the wall and as little as possible on his injured leg. It did not move from its spot, only watching him with twisted amusement like a cat with a mouse.

Deciding not to wait for it to make the first move, the warrior summoned the strength spawned of adrenaline to lunge out to the side, reaching for the ever-beating vials of blood. His move wasn’t quick enough, it seemed, as the dark-eyed thing snatched his wrists before his hands could get a hold of the bottle. It shook its head slowly, dead branches tied to his horns rattling menacingly.

Shen quickly snapped the grip on his person, but was kept from retaliating when another pair of hand fell on his arms, pulling his strike and stealing his footing. A third demon waded into the room and together they pulled him back to his now submerged mat.

He twisted in their grips, landing a solid kick in the ribs of one and a punch in the gut of another. They wheezed, but held firm. At last they pinned him down on the bedding. He felt the pillow squelch under his head and blood seep into his ear canals.

His left arm was snapped into a manacle linked to the wall, his other limbs held down by the three demons respectively. The gore slipped into his mouth and nose, he coughed and choked against it.

The purple demon laughed down at him as the struggled to keep himself above the rising tide. The yellow creature pinning his left leg screeched jovially, the blue one on this right only watched in contempt as it finally overcame him.  
His lungs burned, his nose and mouth flooded, and his eyes covered in a red film. It took far too long before the blackness creeping in from the corners of the room finally smothered him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive my ridiculous overuse of commas and hyphens :)


End file.
